


The Missions Continue

by ohprettyweeper



Series: The Last Bandito [6]
Category: Trench - Twenty One Pilots (Album), Twenty One Pilots
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 20:51:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17649653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohprettyweeper/pseuds/ohprettyweeper
Summary: Josh reveals some of Dema’s secrets to Tyler, Ildri begins a new acquaintance, and Faylinn must decide what to do about her novel.





	The Missions Continue

At the end of every day of work, Josh looked forward to taking the slow walk home, joking around with his friends, discussing the events of the day, who had tried to escape, who was making comments against the Bishops. The usual chitter chatter that built and built until he was home and all was quiet. Only Tyler occasionally come to interrupt the silence, and even then it was mostly because the other man wanted company. 

It was while listening to something Tyler was saying that Josh nearly bumped into a page. The young boy in his black hooded cape and red veil — a variation of the dress and colors which the Bishops wore — stood directly in Josh’s path, and he only stopped himself from knowing the boy over because he looked forward at the last minute. 

“The Bishop Keons wishes to see you in the temple immediately.”

Josh and Tyler exchanged a glance. Nothing about the page’s empty, flat tone assured them this would be a routine visit. There was no such thing within the walls of Dema. Josh hesitated just long enough that the page locked eyes with him. The empty, flat tone was reflected in the empty, flat eyes that stared at Josh through the red mesh. 

Josh nodded. “Of course. I’ll come right away.”

“You may follow me.”

The page turned and began walking, leaving no time for Josh to linger. With one last traded glance with his friend, Josh’s certain steps led him in the direction of the temple. 

When he reached the building, the page disappeared to the left, and Josh continued down the aisle toward the altar where all of the Bishops were waiting in a semi-circle formation behind a large cement block. Keons stepped forward, breaking the formation, and met Josh just in front of that block. The Bishop placed one hand on either side of Josh’s neck. 

“ _Vy buly obrani, miy syn.”_

Josh was still trying to figure out what the Bishop meant when fingers on either side of his neck began to pull away, leaving thick, black lines in their wake. All at once, every ounce of confusion left him. His only purpose was to service Dema; to do the will of the Bishops. 

When Josh woke, everything was different. He was stronger, he could see clearer, he was so acutely _aware_ of his surroundings. 

As weeks and months passed, Josh maintained a strong friendship with Tyler, and it kept him grounded. Dema held secrets that the humans were not aware of, and the Heathens dared not make them aware. Their lives depended on the secrecy they maintained for the Bishops. 

In all the time he had been a Heathen, through all the secrets Josh had kept, never once had he known for a Bishop to request the help of a new Heathen in gaining information from outside of the wall. 

“You have to think,” Josh encouraged his friend, pacing back and forth in Tyler’s room after Tyler had asked him to be the Heathen who went with him on the assigned mission. “What in your past would make them want you to go look for this woman?”

Tyler frowned. “My past? Josh, I have no past. I was born here in Dema, I grew up. I have the same memories that you have.”

“No. None of that is true.”

“So I’m lying?”

“No, the Bishops are!” Josh hissed out, throwing his hands up in frustration. “The Bishops brainwash every human they bring in to Dema. They give you memories of a life lived here so that you won’t want to go back to the life you lived before.”

The moment this fact processed in Tyler’s brain was evident on the man’s face. Josh immediately regretted the way he had delivered the news, but he was worried for his friend’s safety — and that he would be brought down with Tyler. 

Josh drew in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “You swear you didn’t talk to anyone but me about getting out of Dema?”

Tyler nodded, his eyes still staring at the far wall. “I swear.”

Josh nodded. “Okay. All right. Let’s just concentrate on that.”

Tyler cleared his throat and gave Josh all of the details Reisdro had given to him. The assigned mission should be simple enough, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t without its risks. 

* * *

Quinn Walsh was gathering a stack of papers handed in by her students when Ildri arrived in the lecture hall. She walked against the flow of students exiting the hall, toward Quinn. 

“Quinn Walsh?” she asked, extending her hand. 

“Yes, that’s me,” Quinn said, looking around cautiously as she shook Ildri’s hand. “Can I help you?”

“I’m Ildri Van Helsing, I’m an administrative assistant for the New Dema Conference. My boss, Andre Weil, asked that I come and ask you some questions regarding the mythology in Old Dema, for a new piece we are hoping to add to the government’s library and resources. I suppose I could have emailed or called, but I was hoping to catch you at a good time?”

“Oh,” Quinn smiled, oddly relieved. “Yes, of course. I’m flattered that the government would choose me, specifically. The head of the department here, he’s been around a lot longer than I have.”

Ildri nodded. “You’re not wrong, Ms. Walsh —”

“Please, call me Quinn.”

“Quinn,” Ildri corrected, “you’re not wrong. He is not, however, as familiar with the mythology of Old Dema as you are. You wrote your thesis over the Bishops and their beliefs, however, and so we wanted to start with someone more recently acquainted with the information. If you’re available, I would love to ask you some questions over coffee, or even lunch. The government will treat.”

She added that last part with a wink, which caused Quinn to chuckle. The ice effectively broke, Ildri offered up one of her favorite lunch spots for their meeting. The meal would give her longer to ask Quinn questions and begin to form a relationship with the other woman. 

Before too long, Ildri hoped, she would find answers as to why Quinn Walsh was seeking passage inside the wall of Old Dema. 

* * *

Night had fallen by the time Faylinn closed _The Book of Clancy_ and set it on the table before her. She hadn’t so much as glanced at the other books; she was too drawn in to this person, his life in Dema, and his occasional stays in Trench. 

What was it like to be caught between the two worlds, Faylinn wondered to herself. Probably something akin to how she felt, deciding whether to finish her novel or leave it be and start something new. 

The book had not done anything to clarify for her just how much danger she may be in if she continued the novel and published it. 

“Right,” Faylinn scoffed to herself. “Let the entire world know about secrets held within that wall, and see how your life turns out.”

Faylinn could see now that beginning that novel, while the idea had been brilliant, was a suicide mission all along. Then again, maybe the world needed to know. Of course, with New Dema’s proximity to the old world, what kind of repercussions would her hometown face if others decided to risk going up against the Bishops and other inhabitants of Old Dema?

These were not questions she would gain answers to that evening. She checked her watch, realizing that Ildri was likely long gone by now. With a frown, she pulled out her phone and rang her cousin; the call went straight to voicemail. 

“Il, it’s me, I’m still in the library. What happened to you? Anyway, I’m going to head back to the apartment, I guess maybe I’ll see you later. Just let me know you’re all right.”

After disconnecting the call, Faylinn let herself out of the library, and then out of the government building. The drive to the apartment was uneventful, and she found that when she got home, the only right thing she could think to do was to continue the novel. 

“Writing it doesn’t mean I need to publish it,” she told herself, sitting down to her computer and pulling up the manuscript file. “It’s an ace up my sleeve, so to speak.”

Indeed, it would be. 

* * *

Yellow eyes watched the red-haired woman from the shadows of the street. The woman’s second-floor apartment did not make it difficult to watch her every move as she returned home from the university after dark, changed out of her business casual outfit to more comfortable lounge clothes, then began working on supper. 

The yellow eyes watched for hours, waiting for any telltale sign of what this woman was, who she was, really. It was not until the woman had readied for bed and took one last look out the window, her irises shining red for a split second, that anything appeared to be amiss. 


End file.
